In the third month of winter Dorin came to the command tent and stood in the doorway with the expression that was, she had determined over fifteen years of reading it, the one he used when he had something he needed to say that he had been thinking about for a significant period of time.She set down her pen."Sit," she said.He sat.She waited.He looked at the desk. At the eastern wall where the permanent desk was. At the general architecture of a room that had been hers and Kade's for three years and was, in its accumulated details — two coffee cups, two sets of patrol notes, two handwritings on the shared documents — very specifically both of theirs."I want to ask you something," he said."Ask," she said."Kit," he said. "When the baby comes. What does that mean for Kit?"She held his gaze."In what sense?" she said, because she knew the sense and she wanted him to say it directly."In the sense that he has been — in a certain position," Dorin said. He was choosing words carefull
Read more